Decaf
by josephinetheflyingmachine
Summary: Set after Season 8's "A Star Is Torn." Jo's long hours at the college radio station have caught up with her. She gets a migraine and Blair tries to take care of her, against her will. Simple Jo/Blair friendship fluff.


Blair opened the door to her shared bedroom and set her college books down on her desk. "Jo?" she asked, surprised to see her roommate already home and draped across the bed. "How'd you get here so fast?"

Jo groaned without looking up from her pillow. "My head has been killing me since poli sci. I had to leave early."

"I knew something didn't seem right," Blair said softly, moving to sit beside Jo on her bed. "I'm telling you, it's all those hours you've been putting in at the radio station. You need to sleep and drink something that isn't coffee."

Jo swallowed hard and took a deep breath, which worried Blair. Jo wasn't a sickly kind of person. She was always tough and she wasn't one to complain. "I feel a little nauseous," Jo admitted quietly, without insults or wisecracks, which worried Blair even more.

"It kind of sounds like a migraine," Blair replied, deciding to drop the lecture for now. She brought a hand to Jo's back. "Can I get you something? You want some water or some aspirin?"

"I already took some," Jo said quietly. Blair silently rubbed her back for a few moments before Jo looked up, alarmed. "Blair," she said apologetically. "I think I'm actually going to be sick."

"Oh!" Blair exclaimed, jumping back. Jo started to stand up, looking pale and distraught. Blair stood with her. "Here, let me help you…" She put a hand on Jo's arm.

"Blair," Jo repeated. "You don't have to help me. I'm fine."

"You are not fine."

Jo put her hand to her forehead. It was shaking slightly. "Blair, I'm actually going to throw up," she said again, walking swiftly toward the bathroom.

Blair was right behind her. Jo sighed, dropping to sit down in front of the toilet, physically too tired and too ill to really stop her friend. "I don't need you to watch me throw up."

"I'm holding your hair back for you," Blair explained, sounding like a child seeking approval.

"My hair is in a ponytail," Jo stated firmly, annoyed. "There's nothing to hold back." She took a few more breaths.

"I know, but pieces of it could fall out," Blair told her, resting her hands on Jo's hair. "Just let me help you. You do it for me."

And, that was true. Blair, unlike Jo, _wasn't_ an uncomplaining type of person. In fact, Jo could recall more than one dramatic Blair illness over the past few years. Blair always assumed that she must be dying. Of course, she also assumed when others were sick that they, too, must be dying. It could all be rather exhausting.

"This is what best friends do," Blair was saying as Jo's stomach tumbled. "I know. You won't call me your best friend. But, I will."

Jo sighed again, annoyance over nausea. "Yes, I'll call you that," she said thickly, her voice irritated.

"Really?" Blair sounded positively giddy.

"Yes!" Jo shook Blair's hands away. "But, right now, Blair, your best friend is about to hurl. Can you please just leave me alone?"

Before Blair could respond, Jo leaned forward and proceeded to be relentlessly ill.

"Jo?" Blair kept nervously asking, as though Jo could answer. "Are you okay?"

She didn't usually get this sick in front of Blair or anyone. It was awful, and as much as she'd never bring herself to admit it, the comforting hands of her friend (okay, best friend) rubbing her back and, albeit pointlessly, holding her ponytail did make her feel anchored. When her stomach calmed down, she finally found herself able to furiously shake her head affirmatively in response to Blair's incessant questioning as she got sick. She felt Blair's hands abandon her hair midway through it all and return with a cool cloth, which she frantically dabbed across Jo's face. "You really are sick," Blair told her incredulously.

Jo sniffled, her eyes watery. "No," she said sarcastically. "What did you think I was doing, lying?"

"No, I just — you're never this sick." Blair looked worried. "Maybe we should take you to the hospital. I saw this news story about a girl who was throwing up. She had something wrong with her brain…"

"Blair, I'm not going to the hospital." _Something wrong with her brain?_ She'd usually make a joke, but Jo was feeling too sick to respond to how that was worded. "Besides," she continued, deciding to say something to make Blair calm down, instead. "I feel a little better now, really." Her head pounded in response.

Blair looked skeptical. _She knows me too well._ "Do you want to rinse your mouth out?" she asked sympathetically, handing her a paper cup of water from the sink. "It isn't filtered, but…"

Jo couldn't help but laugh. "Thank you," she replied, slowly standing up. Her head was throbbing. She rinsed her mouth and when she looked up, was caught off guard by a wave of dizziness that sent her leaning into Blair.

"Jo?" Blair asked, alarmed. "Are you alright?"

She had already asked that question a million times. "Yes," Jo sighed. "I just got a little dizzy."

Blair held tight to her friend's arm. "Come on, let's get you back to bed and I'll see what medicine I can find to help. There has to be something. What about your motion sickness pills? The ones you take sometimes for the train?"

"I think I just need to sleep it off," Jo told her. "I think you're right about me working too much."

Blair opened her mouth to speak and Jo cut her off with, "Yes, I said you were right."

Chuckling, Blair helped Jo ease onto the bed. "Well, now you sound like yourself," she joked. "Maybe you'll survive after all."

"I'll survive alright," Jo smiled, leaning back against the pillows. She closed her eyes.

"Hey, Jo?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you been…_intimate with anyone recently_?"

Jo's eyes popped open. "Blair!"

"I'm just asking!"

"No," Jo said, irritated. "No, I have not been intimate with anyone recently."

"I'm just saying!" Blair exclaimed. "You know, pregnancy symptoms…"

"I'm not pregnant." Jo rolled her eyes. "I'm too busy to be _intimate recently_," she mocked.

Blair laid her hand across Jo's forehead, checking for a fever.

"I'm just sick," Jo said simply. "It probably is a migraine."

"You don't feel warm," Blair agreed.

Natalie entered the room then, the door slamming behind her. "Hey, guys —" She stopped short, seeing Jo in bed and Blair hovering over her like a mother bird. "What's going on?"

Blair sounded positively distraught. "Jo just got really sick," she explained.

"I'm fine," Jo interjected.

Blair shook her head. "You should've seen her, Natalie. She just kept throwing up. You know how she gets sometimes when she has to be in a seat facing backward on the train? It was like that, but worse."

"Thank you for that," Jo interjected again, sarcastic. "I'm so glad you were there. I'm fine."

"I think she has a migraine," Blair continued.

"Well, she's been working all those hours at the station," Natalie mused.

"That's what I said!"

"Guys!" Jo exclaimed, sending a jolt through her own head. "I really just want to sleep. I'm alright, I promise. Please stop fussing and go study for something. Or, something."

"Okay, I'll study downstairs so you can sleep," Natalie agreed sympathetically. "But, are you sure you don't need anything, Jo?"

Her eyes popped open again. "Can one of you call the station and tell them I won't be able to make it tonight?"

The girls exchanged looks. "I'll call them," Blair said, walking over to turn out the lights. "Get some rest, Jo."

"Thank you."

"You know it's bad when she's calling into the station," Blair whispered to Natalie as they walked out of the room.

"Blair!" Jo chastised from the bed.

"Sorry."

Jo fell into such a deep sleep that she barely woke up for hours. She sometimes heard one of the other girls, usually Blair, come in and out of the room, but she just woke long enough to hear the door open and close before falling asleep again. At one point, she remembered awakening to the sound of Blair desperately asking Natalie and Tootie if they should just take her to the hospital. She'd felt too tired to answer, but remembered Blair placing a hand across her forehead to once again check for a fever. Natalie and Tootie had tried to talk Blair down.

She was still out of it when Blair came into the room with a tray of soup and sat next to her on her bed again, reaching out to shake Jo from sleep.

"Hey, are you okay?" Blair asked when Jo blearily opened her eyes.

Jo's head wasn't throbbing anymore. "Yeah," she answered softly.

"Beverly Ann insisted I bring you this soup," Blair explained, holding the tray out to Jo. "Feel like eating?"

Jo nodded and Blair leaned over to help prop her up on the pillows. "You look a lot better," she commented as Jo reached for a drink. "Do you feel better? You scared me…I kept checking in on you to make sure you were still breathing."

"I know," Jo smiled, dipping her spoon into the vegetable broth. "But, I think I'm okay now. My headache's mostly gone and my stomach isn't flipping around anymore."

Blair rubbed Jo's shoulder. "Good."

Jo glanced up at her. "Look, thanks. You know I have a hard time getting all sappy, but really. I don't know what I would've done without ya."

Blair smiled approvingly. "You're welcome, Jo. Oh, and I called the station. You're off tomorrow, too."

Jo furrowed her brows. "What? They can't find someone to replace me two nights in a row!"

Blair shrugged. "Well, they're going to have to. You're spending tomorrow night relaxing for a change."

Jo took a bite of her soup and sighed, resignedly. "I guess I should have expected this."

"What are friends for?"


End file.
